


Nooks and Crannies - The Murdered Party

by kete



Series: Nooks and Crannies [10]
Category: The Big Valley
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gap Filler, Gen, different POV, tenth episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:33:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24959194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kete/pseuds/kete
Summary: The tenth episode re-told from Silas' POV: Jarrod and Heath are pitched against each other in a criminal trial.Didn't like the ending - so I gave it a new one.
Series: Nooks and Crannies [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/5228
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	Nooks and Crannies - The Murdered Party

**Author's Note:**

> The idea that there's still witchcraft being practiced in them thar mountains was respectfully borrowed from Janissa11's story 'Golden-Haired Boy' (https://archiveofourown.org/works/18933?view_adult=true).
> 
> PSA: While every fic in this series can be read as a stand-alone, there *is* an arc that develops over the course of the whole series.

Well, I'm glad to say we're nearly on the up and up 'gain. Clearin' the house and ranch after the earthquake took us a while, but we made good for Thanksgivin', and then Christmas a month later, and Mr. Eugene, home for the holidays, din't even notice anythin' amiss. So, 'part from a few items that have yet to be replaced or repaired, since there's been no time before the new year, we're good.

Mr. Heath's been supposed to take the big ormulu clock from the mantle in the study to the train, so's it can be repaired in San Francisco, when he done the supply run today, but he forgot the package and Miz Victoria scolded him. Gently. But he don't like to be thought of as unreliable and that's why he's gone to town 'gain after dinner to catch the overnight train at eleven thirty. Normally he's in bed by then, gettin' up as early as he does.

Everyone's sleepin' soundly when he gets back in the small hours, but I hear him comin' in through the kitchen door. Wonder what took him so long? He's not one to hang 'bout in the saloons on a workday.

I'm to hear at breakfast, when Miz Victoria says, ''Heath, I do hope you got enough sleep tonight. It wouldn't have been necessary for you to bring that package to the train last night! Today would have been fine.''

He does look a bit bleary-eyed and is only pushin' his breakfast 'round on his plate without no real appetite.

''Just as well me bein' in town last night,'' he says, lookin' up. He takes a deep breath and says, ''Must tell y'all somethin'. Colonel Ashby's dead.''

''What?'' they cry and ''How?'' and he tells them that he witnessed the man bein' murdered and how he caught the one who did it, one Korby Kyles.

He was a fine man, was Colonel Ashby. Very well respected. Pillar of the community, as the sayin' goes. That Korby Kyles on the other hand? Oh my. If there ever was a ne'er-do-well in this town, t'would be him. Him and his family. White trash, all of'em. And I don't use that word lightly. Tsk.

Mr. Heath turns to Mr. Nick and says, ''I'll have to be at the inquest, sheriff said. Shouldn't take longer than a day or two.''

''See that it doesn't,'' says Mr. Nick. ''Busiest time of the year!'' Everyone groans. For Mr. Nick there's never any other time. At least where his brother goin' off is concerned.

**********

That evenin' after dinner when they's all sittin' in the library, Miss Audra suddenly looks up from the book she's readin' and says, ''You know, Heath, you're very much like Athena!''

''Who?'' he says, lettin' the bridle he's fixin' rest in his lap.

''Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom, handicraft and war.''

He looks at the bridle, then at his sister, and says, ''Thanks...?''

''No, not because of that,'' she says, laughin', ''although it does prove my point. What I thought of was how she sprang, fully formed, from her father Zeus' forehead. Much like you came to us as an adult. Look, here she is!'' She holds out the book to him.

He gets up, takes a look, and frowns. ''Not sure 'bout the dress, sis,'' he says, which for some reason Mr. Nick finds hilarious.

Mr. Jarrod laughs and says, ''You don't have to wear a chiton, Heath, but perhaps you could get a pet owl.''

''Wasn't she the one that was an advisor to Odysseus?'' asks Mr. Nick, still laughin'. ''Remember when Father read the Odyssee to us and always made it sound like everythin' happened to him?''

They all laugh and Miss Audra says, ''Oh dear, yes, Gene and I believed for years that it was Father who blinded Cyclops the train engine and escaped, only to land in that huge storm just in view of Stockton harbor, and then ended up in San Francisco with a witch-lady called Circe who turned all his cow hands into cattle.''

Told you Mr. Tom was one for tellin' tall tales. Such happy times they was! Mr. Jarrod and Mr. Nick still jus' boys, really, sittin' on the floor before the fire after dinner and listenin' to their father's story-tellin', grinnin' at their younger siblin's round-eyed wonder, knowin' the true stories behind the yarn Mr. Tom was spinnin'. And Miss Audra and Mr. Eugene, sittin' on their father's knees, believin' every word, till Miz Victoria laughin' put an end to the excitement and took them up to bed. Then Mr. Tom would be readin' the real story from the book, doin' all the voices, until it was time for bed for Mr. Nick as well while Mr. Jarrod stayed up and had a late night brandy with his father, them talkin' 'bout Mr. Jarrod's studies or ranch business and such. Yes, them were happy times. Such good memories to have. So sad Mr. Heath don't share'em.

Amidst the laughter Mr. Heath returns to his seat and, takin' up his shot glass, salutes Mr. Tom's portrait, a smile on his face. How sweet to think that he's finally makin' peace with his sire, findin' that he shares in his sense of humor. Of course Miz Victoria findin' Mr. Tom's letter to Miz Leah on that trip to Strawberry has done a lot to settle his anger. Still, Mr. Tom done remain a stranger to him - not hated anymore, p'raps - but not someone he felt he had anythin' in common with. Which is a sad thing to think of your own father.

Miz Victoria's the only one who notices, 'sides me. Our eyes meet and we smile and only then does she bite her lip and dabs at her eyes with her handkerchief.

**********

Mr. Heath's away a lot for the inquest the next few days till one mornin' he comes in for breakfast, still buttonin' up his cuffs after he's washed up at the pump in the yard, and after everyone's said their 'good mornin's' Mr. Nick asks, ''You ready to go back to work now? Barley's headin' out, alfalfa's ready to be cut and sixteen colts just waitin' to be broke! I do hope you can spare us some moments of your time!'' while ladlin' scrambled eggs onto his plate.

Mr. Heath, still fumblin' with his cuffs, says, ''I'm ready. I'd sooner clean out stables than testifyin' at that inquest anymore.''

''Then it's all over,'' Miz Victoria remarks.

''They brought in an indictment for first degree murder last night,'' Mr. Heath says. ''It's all over but the hangin'.''

Mr. Jarrod frowns.

''Korby Kyles for Colonel Ashby. One of the most despicable men in our community taken in exchange for one of the most charitable, beloved men. Not a very fair exchange,'' muses Miz Victoria.

''If I had my way, I'd kick Jake Kyles and all three of his sons clean out of this valley. That bunch is worse than a wagonload of barb wire,'' Mr. Nick says darkly.

By then Miss Audra comes in and apologizes for bein' late and the conversation turns to the project she's been workin' on, the new orphanage. Colonel Ashby was to donate the land for that and everyone hopes that with him dead the project may still go on.

As I'm goin' to the kitchen, I hear someone knockin' on the front door and go see who it is. But I find I shouldn't have bothered, 'cause it's the Kyleses and they've already let themselves in!

''I'm sorry,'' I says, ''but you can't come bargin' in here...''

Jake Kyles shoves me out of the way and continues inside the house. ''We have to do some talkin'.''

How dare they! I mean, I know they's the kind of people that don't respect me none, but they don't even respect the family!

They march through the house, all three of'em, Jake Kyles and his sons, Alan and Emmet, rumpled, unwashed and smellin' bad, and end up in the dinin' room, interruptin' the family's breakfast. Everyone jumps up.

''Kyles! Get out of here!'' Mr. Nick growls and starts in their direction. But Miz Victoria and Mr. Jarrod hold him back.

''Victoria,'' Jake Kyles says in greeting.

The impudence!

''Get those hats off!'' Mr. Nick yells. Right he is. All three comply.

Who has ever heard of such behavior? Breakin' into the house, adressin' Miz Victoria by her given name and not even takin' their hats off? Mr. Nick should knock'em down. And if Miz Victoria and Mr. Jarrod weren't restrainin' him, he would.

''I jus' have to ask a simple favor from an old friend,'' says Jake Kyles. ''Never asked the Barkleys for nothin' before 'cept to be left alone and that's the way it's been with everbody in this whole valley up to now.''

''All right,'' Miz Victoria, she says, ''what favor can we do for you?''

''I been all over town. Ain't a lawyer anywhere that'll even touch my boy's case. Either they're afraid of Ashby's name or mad at Kyles. But, Jarrod, he ain't afraid. He's pretty fair with them legal speeches. I'd like to hire him on. You willin'?''

''Now, Jake, you think about the reasons those lawyers turned you down,'' says Mr. Jarrod calmly. ''It's probably because they don't believe your son's plea that he's innocent.''

''Cause not even one of them'll even listen to his side!'' Kyles shouts.

How dare he raise his voice to Mr. Jarrod?

''Jarrod, you're my last hope. I wouldn't ask you neither, if it weren't for the fact that your daddy and me came to this valley together.''

''A member of my family is the prime witness against your son,'' Mr. Jarrod cautions Mr. Kyles.

''I thought of that, too,'' says Kyles, ''but it ain't as if he's a _real_ member of the Barkley family!'' He's sneerin' at Mr. Heath.

I'm standin' right next to the boy and I can feel how it's hittin' him, his parentage thrown in his face 'gain.

''Come on now, I'll -'' Mr. Nick flares up 'gain, but is held back by Miz Victoria and Mr. Jarrod once more. I wish they'd let him loose. I really do.

But Mr. Jarrod stays calm and says, ''Now, Jake, I'll try and overlook that remark. But you understand this: I'll not accept your case.''

Kyles furiously punches his hat and you jus' know it's not his intended target.

''You always yappin' it up about justice, but when it comes to action you like all the rest of'em do-gooders do nothin'! I'm tellin' you the real knife-stickers in this town are the high and mighty muckimucks like the Barkleys!''

Mr. Nick fights 'gain to get free, but as he can't throw punches at his mother and brother, little good it does him.

''Jake, that'll be enough!'' Mr. Jarrod shouts.

''Now, you heard Jarrod's answer! Don't make it any worse,'' Miz Victoria advises.

''No. Right,'' says Kyles. ''You see to it that he keeps his nose out of our business and see that he don't tell anymore lies about my own son.''

Mr. Heath's had enough now. ''Mr. Kyles, I don't take to anybody callin' me a liar,'' he says softly.

''Then I'm tellin' you your testifyin' 'gainst Korby makes you one!''

Mr. Heath pokes old man Kyles firmly in the chest. ''Get out,'' he says.

''Get out, Jake, before we forget you're an old man,'' growls Mr. Nick, steppin' up next to his brother. Then he gets in front of him and commands, ''Now move!''

''Come on, pa,'' says one of Kyles' despicable offspring and they retreat, growlin' and grumblin'. I follow at a safe distance to make sure they leave the house without takin' any souvenirs.

''All right,'' says Miz Victoria, visibly shaken, as I get back. ''Let's finish breakfast.''

Mr. Nick grabs Mr. Heath's arm and turns him 'round to the table, givin' him a comfortin' slap on the shoulder. They sit down and I see Mr. Heath's hands shakin' as he puts his napkin on the table. Mr. Nick thumps his fist into the other hand, no doubt imaginin' what he would do to any of those Kyleses.

''Heath...'' Miss Audra says, tears wellin' up in her eyes, ''I'm so sorry for what he said.''

''Thanks, sis,'' he says softly.

Miz Victoria breaks them up by sayin', ''I'm sure if Jacob really tries, he'll find a competent lawyer.''

''What difference does it make?!'' cries Miss Audra indignant-like.

That Mr. Jarrod can't let stand. ''Well, sometimes it has been known to make the difference between a verdict of guilty and innocent!''

''Heath caught him red-handed!''

''And it's high, low, Jack and the game, right?'' states Mr. Nick.

''Right...'' Mr. Jarrod says doubtful.

I don't like it. I don't like it one bit. He sounds like we might be in for one of his crusades 'gain.

**********

The next day Miss Audra comes back from town in a foul mood. And when Mr. Jarrod comes home in the afternoon, when she's just showin' Mr. Heath the model of the new orphanage, she don't answer his greetin's. But Mr. Heath excuses hisself and goes after his brother into the billiard room. I was jus' headed there anyways, so I follow him slowly.

Mr. Jarrod's over at the drinks cart and jus' pours himself a stiff one when Mr. Heath's enterin'.

''Brother, you're home early,'' he says easily, ''town lost its charme?''

''No, town's fine,'' Mr. Jarrod, he says, stopperin' the bottle.

''Audra seems to think you're commencin' a war against her.''

''Audra's jumping to conclusions,'' Mr. Jarrod says lightly and sips his drink.

Mr. Heath slowly opens a bottle and pours himself a drink, too. ''Jarrod, if you knew a man was guilty – would you defend him?'' he asks hesitant-like.

Mr. Jarrod walks over to the fire place, putting distance between himself and his brother, and says, ''Only to save his life by pleading for mercy.'' He leans against the mantle and goes on, ''Especially if there were extenuating circumstances.''

''But if he claims he's innocent?''

''Well, that would depend on whether I could believe him or not.''

''Do you believe Korby Kyles killed Colonel Ashby?'' Mr. Heath asks forthright.

Mr. Jarrod walks back to him and explains, ''Heath, the more everyone hangs him in advance, the more I wonder about it.''

Mr. Heath says softly, ''I saw him, Jarrod. You think I made it up?''

''No, of course not.''

''But you still think there's a possibility that Kyles didn't do it?''

''At this moment, yes, there's a shadow of possible, but not probable, doubt – even though you sincerely believe you saw him do it.''

''All right, then I wanna make it clear that you don't turn him down on my account.''

''Thanks, Heath. But that's the cart before the horse. I haven't even talked to the party in question yet.''

They salute each other with their glasses.

Yes, I can see it now. That's how it always begins....

**********

Late the next evenin' Mr. Jarrod's still doin' paperwork in the parlor when Mr. Nick marches in and stands before the lit fireplace, lookin' down on his elder brother.

''Is it true?'' he asks softly. Softly! Mr. Nick! He's at his most dangerous when he speaks that way.

''What?'' says Mr. Jarrod, still writin'.

''You gonna defend Kyles?''

''No,'' says Mr. Jarrod, stoppin' his scritchin' and lookin' up, ''but it's true I'm thinking about it.''

Mr. Nick sneers at him. ''You gonna think yourself right into a hole, brother,'' he states. ''The more you think, the deeper you gonna get.''

Mr. Jarrod throws down his pencil. ''No, Nick, I'd say it's more like treading water, looking for a bottom that should be there, but isn't.''

Mr. Nick starts pacin' and finally speaks with his normal voice, ''Well, I just don't see feelin' sorry for Kyles! They came here with the same chances our parents did. The same kind of land and enough of it to keep three boys out of the trouble they're always in!''

Mr. Jarrod finally has enough of bein' berated by his younger brother and gets up. ''Look, why don't you give some of that good advice about how to run their place to them?''

''Because it's none of my business to give advice to people who don't want it. - Jarrod, how long it's been since you been out to Kyles' place?''

''A long time. Why?''

''Why don't you take a ride out there? Maybe you can find that bottom you been lookin' for.'' With that Mr. Nick leaves his brother to ponder his words and angrily stalks out and up them stairs.

**********

When Mr. Jarrod has left the next morning – perhaps to follow his brother's advice from yesterday eve, who knows – Mr. Nick talks to Miz Victoria privately.

Yes, I know what you're thinkin', but it's not my fault no one notices me goin' 'bout my chores, is it now? They's so used to me bein' somewhere in the background, it's the same as if I was a potted plant.

''I wish you'd talk to that pig-headed eldest son of yours, Mother,'' Mr. Nick says, when they's both alone at the breakfast table.

''Oh?''

''He's about to go off on one of his crusades again and he'll do a lot of damage to the family this time.''

''Audra will get over it. We'll provide another piece of land and -''

''I'm not talkin' about Audra! I'm talkin' about Heath! From the day Heath came here he's had to prove to everyone that he's their equal. That his word counts no less than ours. If Jarrod takes the Kyles' case, he'll have to attempt to discredit Heath's testimony. What do you think that'll do to him? To his reputation in the eyes of the people?''

''You're right. I hadn't thought about that.''

''And what'll happen to those two? Jarrod practically sayin' as much as he don't believe him? Mother, that boy is no stupid country bumkin like Alan or Emmet Kyles! If he says Korby's done the killin' then Korby Kyles' done it!''

''You're right, dear. Of course you're right,'' Miz Victoria says worried-like. ''Well, the place to discuss law is in a lawyer's office, not at the breakfast table. I'll go see him in town right away. I mean, nothing in the law says a lawyer has to defend any special person, right? A lawyer has the right to refuse a case, if he so choses.''

''Sounds right to me,'' says Mr. Nick. ''Just make sure he choses the right thing to do.''

So, Miz Victoria leaves to go talk to Mr. Jarrod and when she's back it's with the news that the judge has made Matt Cooper accept the case. The crisis's been avoided.

**********

Later that evenin' I'm in my kitchen enjoyin' a last cup of tea before retirin' to my room and bed when somethin' scrabbles at the kitchen door. Pr'aps one of them barn cats or one of the dogs, I think. They's sometimes comin' by in hopes of a saucer full of cream or a few scraps of meat left over from dinner. Not that I make a habit of feedin' Miss Audra's menagerie from the kitchen – but when it's leftovers? So's I go and have me a look and when I open the door, it's Mr. Heath who falls inside and lies moanin' on the kitchen floor. His face is bloody and he's holdin' his ribs. He's been beat up. Bad.

''Help!'' I shout. ''Mr. Nick! Miz Barkley! Come quick! Oh, help, someone!''

Right away I hear Mr. Nick come janglin' down them back stairs and Miz Victoria comes rushin' in from the parlor.

''Silas! What is it?'' he yells.

And, ''Oh, my goodness, what's happened?'' she wants to know.

I look up from where I'm kneelin' on the floor next to Mr. Heath and they both hurry to his aid.

''What happened to you, boy?'' Mr. Nick says as he gets down and carefully turns 'round his brother, so his head can rest on Mr. Nick's knees.

''Kyles...'' Mr. Heath groans before his eyes roll back in his head and he passes out.

''Nick, get him upstairs. I'll get the supplies,'' Miz Victoria orders.

Now Miss Audra comes down them stairs, too, and cries out, ''Heath!'' when she sees him lyin' in a heap on the kitchen floor.

''Can't get him up that narrow staircase like that,'' says Mr. Nick, gently slappin' his brother's face. ''Come on, boy, wake up!''

''The parlor,'' says Miss Audra, ''I'll help.'' And together they manage to lift their half-conscious brother up and support him from both sides, so's they can get him to the parlor, stumblin' between them.

''Silas. Hot water,'' Miz Victoria commands as she turns to the cupboard where the liniment and bandages are stored.

I get my creakin' knees to cooperate and get up to take the kettle from the stove. Oh my. Why do such things always happen at night?

When I get to the parlor with a bowl of hot water and some rags, Mr. Heath lies slumped on the settee with Miss Audra next to him.

''What the hell happend?'' Mr. Nick wants to know, standin' in front of them, hands on his hips.

''K...Kyles, all three of'em...'' Mr. Heath mumbles weakly. ''No witness... Forge...''

Mr. Nick turns away to fill a tumbler half full of whisky and presses it into his brother's hands. ''Here. Have that. You'll feel better.''

Mr. Heath gratefully takes a sip and says more clearly, ''Din't put out the fire. Nick...''

''Yeah,'' he says shortly and turns away, ''I'll see to it.''

When he comes back a few minutes later, his face is even darker than before. He takes his gunbelt from the table in the foyer and starts loadin' up the belt with bullets. That's when Mr. Jarrod comes home.

''What happened?'' he asks as soon as he sees the scene in front of him. ''Who did this?''

''One guess,'' Mr. Nick challenges as Mr. Jarrod stands next to him.

''Kyles?'' Mr. Jarrod asks.

''It was them,'' Mr. Heath confirms.

''Me and the boys'll do a little visitin','' Mr. Nick grinds out with narrowed eyes.

Mr. Jarrod says, ''Nick, you know better than to play vigilante!''

''In this case I wish I didn't,'' Mr. Nick says, resignin' to the fact his brother won't let him go.

''What'd they say?'' Mr. Jarrod asks Mr. Heath.

''They threatened the whole family, if I testify against Korby.''

''I see.''

''Jarrod, no one can stop me,'' Mr. Heath says with conviction, while Miss Audra's dabbin' his face with a washcloth.

''I know that, Heath,'' says Mr. Jarrod. ''And I promise you they will be punished.''

Miss Audra looks at him with contempt. ''And to think you were considering defending one of them,'' she says venomously as Miz Victoria comes in with the liniment.

Mr. Jarrod retreats to the fireplace. ''Korby's not responsible for what his family does,'' he says.

Miz Victoria starts with the liniment on Mr. Heath's face and he hisses softly through his teeth.

''I'm taking the case,'' Mr. Jarrod states firmly.

Mr. Heath looks at his eldest brother, and I can see the hurt flashin' in his eyes for a moment, but then the shutters come down, and his face is a calm mask.

''You can't!'' Miss Audra cries.

''NO!'' shouts Mr. Nick.

Miz Victoria looks at her eldest in shock. ''But, I thought Matt Cooper...?''

''He was,'' Mr. Jarrod explains. ''But wat chance does a man have, when his own lawyer's convinced he's guilty? - I have no choice.''

Which is nonsense from where I stand, but what do I know? Mr. Jarrod, he could choose to believe his brother, and I don't understand why he insists he won't. Why does he think Korby Kyles is more believable than Mr. Heath? It don't make no sense to me. This won't end well, I fear.

**********

Mr. Nick and Miss Audra help their wounded sibling up and lead him to them stairs, Miz Victoria and me trailin' after them. None can stand to be in the same room as Mr. Jarrod at the moment. He stays at the fireplace, lost in thought.

Upstairs the ladies retreat for the night while Mr. Nick and me help Mr. Heath into bed. Those Kyleses really worked him over. His chest and stomach are heavily bruised, but he don't have no broken ribs, it would seem. Well, small mercies, right?

I go down into my kitchen to make Mr. Heath some willowbark tea 'gainst his pains and when I return up them back stairs, I find Mr. Nick still standin' in front of Mr. Heath's bedroom, one palm flat on the closed door.

''Do you remember when Audra and Gene were born?'' he softly asks Mr. Jarrod who's just comin' up them front stairs.

''Of course I remember,'' Mr. Jarrod says, surprised at the question.

''Remember when Father took them from Mother and laid them in our arms, first yours, then mine, and introduced us?''

''I do.''

''We should've had that,'' Mr. Nick says in a thick voice before he stalks 'long the hallway to his room, spurs janglin' softly.

Mr. Jarrod looks after him before he takes his brother's place with one palm on the door and his head bowed. He stays like that for a long time.

I've to go back and re-heat the tea.

**********

The next mornin' Mr. Heath comes down when I'm preparin' breakfast and if he's feelin' as bad as he looks he should've stayed in bed, if you ask me. He takes a cup of coffee and carefully sits down, one arm pressed 'gainst his ribcage.

''You think you should be up?'' I asks.

''Why not?'' he asks back, genuinely surprised. ''I'm just a little stiff, is all.''

''Hrm,'' I says and after a while he leaves to start his chores.

When he comes back in for breakfast, he's pale and sweatin' and obviously in pain.

''Where do _you_ come from?'' Mr. Nick asks aghast as Mr. Heath sits down beside him.

''The barn...?'' Mr. Heath ventures.

''Have you lost all your marbles now?'' Mr. Nick explodes. ''You've been workin' like this? You stay inside today, you hear me? If I catch you workin', I'll knock you flat.''

''Yeah, that'll make me feel better,'' Mr. Heath grumbles.

Miz Victoria hides her smile behind her napkin. ''I'm afraid you're stuck with us today, dear,'' she says. ''Why don't you catch up on your sleep for an hour or two after breakfast and then keep Audra and me company, hm? You really look like Audra could knock you flat.''

''Oh, I could,'' Miss Audra says softly. Mr. Heath shoots her a warnin' look.

I quickly replenish the coffee in their cups, makin' as much clinkin' and tinklin' noises as I can, divertin' them from followin' up on the subject.

**********

When he comes back down from his room by midmornin', Miz Victoria and Miss Audra are sittin' in the parlor, doin' needlework.

''I've never been so coddled in my life,'' he states grumpily and sits down next to Miss Audra on the settee.

''Doesn't it feel nice?'' she asks him serenely, which makes him chuckle.

''Feels unfamiliar,'' he admits. ''Here, give me that! When I'm to stay inside like some invalid, I can as well make myself useful.'' With that he takes the docket of yarn she's holdin' and stretches it between his hands, so she can wind it into a ball.

''How'd you know?'' she asks surprised as she starts windin'.

''Oh, I've done that often for my mama. What are you goin' to make with that flimsy stuff?''

''I'm making a lace shawl, if you really want to know,'' she says.

I grin and go to get them some coffee. When I get back with my tray, he's jus' sayin', ''Just because I'm not likely to ever make a lace shawl myself don't mean I can't be interested in how you do it.''

''Don't be cross with her, Heath,'' says Miz Victoria. ''It's just that none of your brothers are ever interested in what we make and how we do it.''

I start handin' out cups and fillin' them.

''They think socks and mufflers grow on trees,'' Miss Audra says acerbic-like. ''And holes in socks grow magically back. Buttons pop out of the fabric like mushrooms.''

He laughs. ''That reminds me of how my mama taught me how to knit and mend socks when I was little.''

''She did?'' Miss Audra exclaims.

''Could you still do it?'' Miz Victoria wants to know, lettin' her mendin' drop in her lap.

He chuckles ruefully. ''I don't think so. T'was a long time ago. But at least I know you can't pick'em from trees.''

''You do like women, don't you, Heath?'' Miss Audra asks, and when he looks at her in surprise, she elaborates, ''I mean really like. To be with. You don't think we're just silly twittering things that need to be taken care of.''

''Of course I do like to be around ladies,'' he states firmly. ''I've been brought up by three of'em, remember? And my mama, Aunt Rachel and Hannah sure weren't silly twitterin' things! They did work as hard as any cowhand I know. Harder perhaps. _They_ took care of _me_ for a long time.''

''It shows, my dear,'' Miz Victoria says fondly and takes up her work 'gain.

''If Nick has to spend a day with us, he gets all cranky and complains a lot. Do you remember, Mother, when he was laid up when he was shot in the leg?'' Miss Audra says.

''Oh, he loves us, dear,'' Miz Victoria states, ''and he likes some family time, but he prefers to spend most of his time in all male company, if possible. Some men are like that.''

''Jarrod and Eugene are not as bad,'' says Miss Audra.

''No, they're not – but they still don't have much interest in female activities.''

''What about...'' Mr. Heath starts sayin', but stops when they look up at him.

''Yes, dear?''

''What about...'' he swallows, ''...Father?''

Time seems to stop as all three look at each other, ponderin' what jus' happened. He's called Mr. Tom 'Father' for the very first time.

Both ladies smile happily at him and then Miz Victoria says, ''Oh, he was a lot like you, Heath! Interested in everything and everyone. That was what made me first fall in love with him. I was a school teacher at the time we met and he wanted to know everything I did. What was I teaching and how did I go about it? What were the children like? And his interest was genuine, he really wanted to know, it wasn't just about making me feel good.

''He treated me like his equal from the start. I was quite unused to that and it was a wonderful feeling. I've always been... headstrong, you might say, and most men didn't like that very much. But Tom was different. I don't know that I could have been happy married to a man who didn't accept me like he did.''

''My Victoria,'' he once said to me, ''she could be president, I'm tellin' you, Silas, she's that smart! Too bad women can't run for public office. But it'll come! Women will get the vote and then they'll run things! Your people, too, old friend. Everyone doin' an honest day's work should have a say in how this country's run. But it'll come. You mind my words. Perhaps still in our lifetime, eh?''

I very much doubt that, but I din't have the heart to tell him. And then, his lifetime was suddenly cut off.

''You remind me a lot of him in that regard,'' Miz Victoria continues, ''only you're more quiet than he was. Temperament-wise he was a lot like Nick. Loud. Boisterous. Impatient sometimes, though never with me or the children. _You_ never raise your voice. Unless you are very angry, of course.''

''One of the advantages of bein' raised by three ladies, I suppose,'' he says thoughtfully. ''I never _had_ to raise my voice. Shoutin' was not approved of.''

I ponder, not for the first time, how a young boy, lovingly brought up by three gentle Southern women, may have fared when suddenly in all male company, as he was when he started out on his own so young. The language. The casual violence. I shudder to think 'bout it.

''I remember,'' Miz Victoria says slowly, eyes on her mendin', ''poor Audra suffering terribly when her teeth came in. She was crying all through the night. Nick demanded we put her in the barn, so he could sleep.''

Miss Audra's finishes with her yarn windin' and takes up her knittin' needles, gigglin'.

''I was at my wit's end and totally exhausted,'' Miz Victoria goes on. ''That was when your father stepped up. He got up and took her out of her crib and, cradling her in his arms, he went down here, so the boys could sleep in peace, and carried her around singing to her. He wandered around the dining room table, endlessly, singing her every song he knew until she quieted, listening, and he sent me back to bed. When I came down in the morning, I found them here on the settee, both sound asleep. He did that every night until her teeth were through and she was a happy little girl again, sleeping through the night. - He was a wonderful father.''

That he was. He was a great man and that's that.

''And he would have loved you with all his heart,'' Miz Victoria says to Mr. Heath, lookin' up and blinkin' away her tears.

He hesitates, then says softly, ''I'm beginnin' to believe that.''

Miss Audra wipes her eyes and they's sittin' quietly for a while.

''Well, I can as well do some craftin' of my own,'' he then states and gets up to go to his room. When he returns he brings with him a cotton bundle and unwraps it to show a thick docket of horsetail hair, all different colors.

''What will you do with that?'' Miss Audra asks.

''Make a lariat,'' he says and starts twining a few strands of hair together into a thin rope with nimble fingers.

And so they sit peacefully, goin' 'bout their work and drinkin' coffee, talkin' quietly among themselves. I go to the library and tell Mr. Tom 'bout what happened. And to remember.

We met in a small town in Texas when I was on the run from the old place in Georgia. Yes, everyone ran North, I'd run South into Florida. Stowin' 'way on a boat in a harbour town, I'd crossed to Texas and was movin' West, hunters hot on my heels. I was pickin' through the waste of the livery stable, hopin' for some leftover kernels of horsefeed, when he suddenly loomed above me. Such a tall man, strong and proud, godlike almost. His legs planted firmly apart and his hands on his hips, I could only see his silhouette against the glare of the afternoon sun, and I froze in terror.

''You a runaway?'' he asked curtly and I knew I was done for. So many miles, so many weeks, and here it would all end, because I could not outrun him. I couldn't bring forth a word, just looked up at him, quiverin'.

And he reached out his hand. ''You better come with me,'' he said, grabbin' me by the arm and hoistin'me up. He put his arm 'round my shoulder, he did, leadin' me to his wagon, sayin', ''I'll keep you safe.''

And that he did for many years. And when the hunters stopped his wagon, hidden inside I heard him tell them that, no, he hadn't seen anyone like me, but even if he had, he didn't hold with their profession and they'd better be on their way – or else. And that's how I came to California, hidden in a treck wagon on Tom Barkley's cattle drive.

After lunch Miz Victoria goes upstairs to take her afternoon nap and persuades Mr. Heath to do the same.

**********

When they meet up 'gain in the afternoon, they go on with their craftin'.

''It's about the principle, I know,'' Mr. Heath's jus' sayin' when I enter the room once more with my coffee tray. ''What I don't understand is why he won't believe me that I saw Kyles do it.''

Ah, they's talkin' 'bout the trial now.

''I don't know either,'' Miz Victoria admits.

''I hate those stupid principles of his!'' Miss Audra says fiercely. ''How can they be more important than the children?''

''Well, I guess in a way they are, sis. That every man must be regarded equal under the law and given a fair trial is important for these children, too. Aren't many of them who have any family, most bein' orphans and foundlin's. And for anyone alone in the world it's a good thing there are laws protectin' them when no one else does. When I came here many people called me the same they're calling the Kyles: white trash. I rather like feelin' safe not to be hanged just for that.''

''As if there's any comparison!'' Miss Audra flares up.

Mr. Heath jus' shrugs and goes on workin' on his lariat.

''Your brother is right, dear,'' Miz Victoria, who's been listenin' intently, cuts in. ''That we now have laws that are valid for everyone is one of the great achievements of civilization. Just think how it was just a few hundred years ago when a peasant had no chance to be heard against a nobleman, a poor man against a rich one.''

Miss Audra goes on knittin', stabbin' the yarn with her needles. ''I'm still angry, despite all that.''

Mr. Nick, comin' in from the range early and findin' them all sittin' in the parlor, asks, ''And what are you doin' here?'' peerin' over Mr. Heath's shoulder.

''Makin' you that lariat you wanted,'' Mr. Heath answers placidly.

''Oh. Hey!'' Mr. Nick beams, truly pleased.

Oh my, they's beginnin' to do nice things for each other! 'If I catch you workin', I'll knock you flat,' may not _sound_ nice, but it's the thought that counts, right? And it's a far cry from the first months when he worked him mercilessly even when he was hurt or so exhausted he barely made it through dinner.

''I thought about makin' you a lace shawl,'' Mr. Heath goes on seriously, applyin' his best poker face, ''but then I thought you'd probably get more use out of this.''

''A... lace shawl, huh...?'' Mr. Nick says flabbergasted.

Miss Audra bites her lip and Miz Victoria lowers her face to hide her smile.

''Yeah. Cashmere, you know, warm in winter, cool in summer,'' Mr. Heath quotes what he's heard from Miss Audra earlier. ''Nice shade of crimson, very fetchin'.''

''Boy, I think you better come out with me again tomorrow!'' Mr. Nick explodes. ''Can't leave you with the womenfolk too long or next Audra'll have you in an apron bakin' cookies!''

The three crafters break out laughin' and Mr. Nick, knowin' he's been had, stomps 'way to the liquor table.

I leave them be and go to prepare dinner.

**********

On the evenin' before the trial when the family meets up in the parlor, Mr. Nick pours drinks for Miz Victoria and Mr. Heath and softly says, ''Well, here's to success!''

''In the harvest!'' Mr. Heath says, as if he didn't get what Mr. Nick's meanin'.

He don't like the family bein' at odds any more'n I do.

Miss Audra comes in as they drink and they go on teasin' her 'bout her new dress.

''Well, let's have dinner,'' Miz Victoria says, decidin' they won't wait for Mr. Jarrod, who's still in town preparin' for tomorrow, to come home.

Before I can go 'bout servin' my pot roast however, someone knocks on the door and one of them hands tells me to go and tell Mr. Nick that one of his favorite brood mares's 'bout to foal. So's he leaves, dismayed, because his stomach's grumblin' so loud I can hear it from where I stand.

''You gonna hold her hoof?'' Mr. Heath teases him. Mr. Nick grumbles and Mr. Heath promises to bring him a roast beef sandwich. That's when Mr. Jarrod enters the dinin' room.

There's a glum mood 'bout the table when he greets his family and Miss Audra pointedly ignores him, which seems to surprise him somewhat.

''Well, I take it Mrs. Ashby backed out,'' he says, takin' the steer by the horns.

Miss Audra gives him some choice words 'bout that and then leaves in tears, Miz Victoria goin' after her, which leaves Mr. Jarrod and Mr. Heath alone at the table.

''Needless to say, I'll be glad when this trial is over,'' Mr. Jarrod offers as an attempt at dinner conversation.

''Think you got a chance, Jarrod?'' Mr. Heath asks.

''A good one, based on what I've got,'' Mr. Jarrod answers confidently. ''Only, I've heard Greene's got a surprise witness. That worries me.''

''And I don't?'' Mr. Heath asks quietly. He's obviously hurt by his brother dismissin' him as a witness.

''Heath, you understand that when a lawyer takes a case, he does it anyway he can. No holds barred.''

Mr. Heath, takin' up his water glass with a faint smile, says, ''So, that means, if you can, you'll turn me upside down and inside out...''

''That's what it means,'' Mr. Jarrod answers firmly.

Mr. Heath raises on eyebrow and salutes him with his glass, smilin', ''I'll be ready for you!''

Mr. Jarrod looks down on his plate, unconvinced.

I'm not convinced either. The poor boy has never seen Mr. Jarrod in a court room. But I have. Once or twice over the years. He's like the sword of justice personified, is Mr. Jarrod. He'll cut him to shreds.

**********

The next mornin' after breakfast I beg a ride in the barouche with Mr. Jarrod and the ladies. I wanna watch this trial for myself. And support Mr. Heath, if I can.

In the courthouse the family take their seats behind Mr. Greene at the prosecution table, demonstratin' who they's supportin'. I stay behind and catch a seat in the last row on the same side. Behind the defense table where Mr. Jarrod resides next to his client, sit the Kyleses, sneerin' at the prosecution and behavin' like the louts they are. Every seat is taken, this bein' such a prominent case. Colonel Ashby's widow, heavily veiled in her widow's weeds, is there, too, in the row behind the family.

The room is called to order and the Honorable Judge, Morton P. Lansing, arrives. Then the judge admonishes the jury and charges the defendant, Korby Kyles, represented by Mr. Jarrod Barkley, with the murder of Colonel John G. Ashby. Turning towards him the judge asks, ''Mr. Barkley, how does your client wish to plea?''

Rising, Mr. Jarrod states, ''Not guilty, Your Honor.''

''Mr. Greene, you may make your opening statement.''

''Thank you, Your Honor,'' says Mr. Greene and goes on sayin', ''I intend to prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that Colonel Ashby could only have received the fatal wound by the defendant, Mr. Kyles.''

After openin' statements from both sides – the prosecution layin' out why it could only have been Korby Kyles killin' the colonel while Mr. Jarrod in the defense states the exact opposite – the first witness of the prosecution is called.

After several of them, includin' the night clerk from the train depot, men loadin' and unloadin' the number nine train, the sheriff, Doctor Merar, and even Mr. Beckett, the undertaker, finally Mr. Heath is called to the stand. An excited murmur washes through the crowd. This is what they've all been waitin' for, a first hand account of the grisly deed.

And Mr. Heath don't disappoint them as he tells, led through the event by Mr. Greene's questions, how he delivered a package to the train to San Francisco, heard a noise in an alley, went to investigate, and found Colonel Ashby dead and Korby Kyles fleein' the scene.

The widow Ashby sways in her seat at that and has to be treated with smellin' salts by her friend. Poor lady.

The Kyleses on the other hand are rowdily protestin' the involvement of their family member and shoutin' at Mr. Heath until the judge bangs his gavel and threatens them with removal from the court room.

He then decides to take a lunch break and so we all have to wait till afternoon to hearin' the witnesses for the defense.

**********

When we's all back an hour later, Korby Kyles himself is called as first witness for the defense. He lounges in the witness chair, his legs up on the balustrade, as if he wants to make sure everyone's bad opinion of him can't sink any lower. Led by Mr. Jarrod's questions his account of the events goes as follows: he totally harmless hung 'round at the station mindin' his own business, when he noticed a fight in an alleyway. He ran towards it and saw a Chinese man stabbin' Colonel Ashby. Findin' the colonel dead, he then ran after the murderer and was actually prevented from catchin' him by Mr. Heath who jumped him and wrongfully apprehended him.

Can't say anyone looks much convinced by that tale.

In cross-examination Mr. Greene shows him two knives and he acknowledges one of them as his. The other one – with an odd-shaped blade - he says he drew from Colonel Ashby's wound before he took off to chase the Chinaman who killed him with it. As if.

The prosecutor then asks him why he stated that he wouldn't own a knife like this.

''Can I show you somethin'?'' Korby grins and gently takes his own knife from Mr. Greene's hands. He hesitates a moment, lookin' 'round, then, in a sudden move, throws the knife across the room into the sign readin' ''With Liberty and Justice for All'' right above the jury board! Several of the jurors duck, while others jump out of their seats in shock and outrage.

That's why he wouldn't own a toad-sticker like the other knife, Korby explains.

Over the clamor in the courtroom the judge advises him that he won't tolerate any more such demonstrations. I say.

Next Mr. Jarrod calls a Mr. Asa Harmon to the witness stand. The crowd's a-whisperin' again. Who's that Asa Harmon?

Mr. Jarrod asks, ''Mr. Harmon, would you state your occupation, please?''

''I'm a special detective employed by Senator Erickson's investigating committee,'' says the unknown gentleman, and goes on explainin' how the purpose of that investigation is the legislative restrictions on the importation and sale of harmful drugs.''

''Alright, Mr. Harmon, would you tell us, please, what you know to be the connection between Colonel Ashby and Korby Kyles?''

''Kyles worked for Colonel Ashby. Colonel Ashby was a member of a ring distributing opium to the Tong, here and in San Francisco,'' the detective states calmly.

The court room explodes in a bout of shouts of surprise and denial. The widow Ashby is led outside, wailin' and staggerin' on her feet.

''Mr. Harmon, are you saying that Colonel Ashby, a man of spotless reputation, was involved in narcotics trafficking?'' Mr. Jarrod asks.

''He was more than just involved. Colonel Ashby was one of the prime movers.''

''And, according to your information, how long was he involved in this trade?''

Now Mr. Greene, the prosecutor, jumps to his feet, shoutin', ''Objection! You'll not make murder any less repugnant by maligning and slandering the good name of the victim, who is not here to defend himself!''

''Your Honor,'' counters Mr. Jarrod, ''I am merely trying to establish the victim's true occupation, in order to show that there might be others with stronger motives to have committed this crime.

''Now, I... I deeply regret having to bring out this sordid background, however, I am sworn to defend my client by all possible means.''

''Objection overruled. Please answer the question, Mr. Harmon,'' orders the judge.

Mr. Jarrod repeats the question, ''How long was he so involved?''

''We have records showing that Colonel Ashby has been involved in the narcotics trade for over a period of twenty years,'' says the witness.

Mr. Jarrod then asks, if in that case it would be credible to believe that Colonel Ashby could have made arrangements to meet someone else, possibly a member of the Tong, in the alley that night?

''Yes, Sir, I would say so.''

''Now, Mr. Harmon, would you tell us, please, what you've been able to find out about the narcotics trade and how it operates.''

Everyone's quiet now, even the Kyleses, as Mr. Harmon explains how the stuff is imported into the country, diluted, repackaged and then distributed to various cities and communities. Apparently the original investment pays off at about one thousand percent profit while the users becomes virtual slaves to their supplier. And how Congress is presently workin' on legislation which would make the public sale of harmful drugs illegal.

That's a lot to take in. I din't have any idea such things were happenin' right here in Stockton! I see Mr. Nick and Mr. Heath look at each other, dumbstruck.

Only Korby Kyles cries happily, ''You tell 'em, feller! You tell 'em!''

Done with his witness Mr. Jarrod sits down. Mr. Greene don't wish to cross-examine, so's the witness is dismissed.

Then, ''Mr. Barkley, are you ready to call your next witness?'' Judge Lansing asks.

And Mr. Jarrod gets up slowly and answers, ''Yes, Sir, I would like to recall Mr. Heath Barkley to the witness stand.''

Oh my. That's it. Now it comes. Dear Lord, save us all. And especially Mr. Heath.

When Mr. Heath comes forward and takes his place in the stand 'gain, the judge reminds him that he's still sworn in and under oath to tell the truth. Then Mr. Jarrod walks over and starts his cross exam.

''Mr. Barkley, according to your testimony earlier in this trial, you stated that the quarrel you heard from the alley sounded like such a critical matter that you felt you should interfere.”

Mr. Heath nodds and says, ''That's correct.''

If he feels nervous, he don't show it. I'm so uncomfortable my palms are sweaty. Brother 'gainst brother – this ain't right...

Mr. Jarrod goes on summarizing, ''You further stated, that upon entering the alley, you saw two men fighting, in the shadows, and that when you came close, one man ran away and the other slumped and fell from a knife wound in the abdomen. Is that correct?''

''That's right.''

''Can you tell me the location of the nearest streetlamp to that alley?''

''Streetlamp?'' Mr. Heath repeats, soundin' surprised. ''No.''

Mr. Jarrod walks away from the stand to illustrate his point and says, turnin' to the jury, ''According to my measurements, it's 87 feet away. Over thirty feet from the entrance to that alley.''

Turnin' back to Mr. Heath he continues, ''Now, from that distance, that lamp couldn't shed enough light in that alley for a man to see his hand, one foot in front of his face. And, yet, you state that you clearly saw Korby Kyles.''

Oh, dear. Now he'll start takin' him apart. His tone is quite dubious, makin' it clear he don't believe a single word his brother says.

But Mr. Heath insists, ''He was in the shadows, but I know it was him.''

Mr. Jarrod stares him down and asks, ''Even in the shadows?''

Mr. Heath's becomin' a bit annoyed, I can see, but he answers firmly, ''That's what I said.''

Mr. Jarrod still stares at Mr. Heath, then says, “Now, Mr. Barkley, would you please tell us again, everything that happened, including the time just before you entered the alley?''

The poor boy must be so fed up with tellin' the same story 'gain and 'gain, to the sheriff, to his family, at the inquest, and even here durin' his exam by Mr. Greene – none of whom doubted him - but he patiently goes through it once more.

''I was walkin' along and the headlight from the San Francisco Limited passed over me. I heard a man yell, and I ran into the alley to see what it was all about. Even though it was dark, I could see in the shadows clearly enough to know that it was Korby Kyles who ran, and Colonel Ashby who'd been stabbed.''

''You're sure?''

''I am.''

Mr. Jarrod walks back to the stand, and, leaning toward Mr. Heath over the bar between them, asks, ''Sure enough to put a noose around the defendant's neck?''

Oh, unfair! He knows quite well how deeply compassionate his brother is and is not above usin' it against him.

But Mr. Heath is on to him and answers, ''Yes. I've got no reason to lie.''

''I'm not suggesting that you were lying, merely that you were mistaken, when you stated that you clearly saw Korby Kyles running away,'' Mr. Jarrod suggests, his voice softer and more conciliatory then before.

But Mr. Heath has had enough now, and, his temper flarin' up, lunges toward Mr. Jarrod, blue eyes blazing. ''And I say you're dead wrong!'' he growls.

''And I intend to prove you're mistaken, by showing you that the shadows you saw into were purely imaginary,'' Mr Jarrod answers coolly.

''They weren't imaginary!'' Mr. Nick shouts, jumpin' up. Clearly he's had enough now, too.

''Mr. Barkley, you're out of order!'' Judge Lansing conters immediately, poundin' his wooden gavel with all his might. ''If you speak out again, I'll order you out of this courtroom!''

But Mr. Nick don't fear no judge and it takes Miz Victoria to get him down in his seat 'gain.

''Continue,'' the judge says, still glarin' at Mr. Nick, as he gestures toward Mr. Jarrod with his gavel.

Turnin' back to the witness stand Mr. Jarrod casually asks, “Can you tell me what kind of moon there was that night?''

Lookin' up at his older brother with a befuddled look on his face, Mr. Heath answers slowly, ''Moon? No, I... I don't recall what kind of moon there was.''

Mr. Jarrod purposefully walks towards the defense table and picks up a newspaper, then, turnin' back toward the jury, opens it and states with contempt, ''Very likely.

''Your Honor, I hold here in my hand a newspaper, that I will submit later into evidence, that clearly shows that there was no moon that night,'' he continues, addressin' the judge.

Stalkin' back towards the witness stand, he goes on, ''If there was no moon, there was no light, and if there was no light, there were no shadows, so you would have had to recognize Korby Kyles in what virtually amounted to total darkness!''

And again the courtroom erupts into exclamations of anger and incredulity – Mr. Heath's testimony now irrevocably shattered. The Kyleses, of course, are delighted and bang around, father and sons clappin' each other's backs. Judge Lansing and his gavel are hardly able to restore order.

Mr. Jarrod seems really angry now at Mr. Heath's stubborn refusal to acknowledge the facts as he presents them. But he calms down 'gain and says with intent, ''Now I submit to you that this is what really happened: From the sounds you heard in the alley, it was clear to you that somebody had stabbed Colonel Ashby and run away. You chased after that man in the total darkness, and you stumbled on Korby Kyles. And, putting his reputation together with what had happened in the alley, you assumed that it was Korby that had done the stabbing.''

He gets even closer to his brother and continues, ''Now, having assumed that much, your imagination took you one step further. It led you to believe that you saw more in that dark alley than it was humanly possible to see.''

They lock eyes, and Mr. Jarrod, putting his hands on the bar and on the back of Mr. Heath's chair, thus lockin' him in, leans in close and says, ''Now, I'll ask you one more time. Are you absolutely sure it was Korby Kyles you saw, and that it could not have been somebody else?''

Still starin' into each other's eyes in a battle of wills, the courtroom deadly quiet now, Mr. Heath finally gives in and says very softly, ''No. I guess I'm not sure after all.''

''That'll be all,'' Mr. Jarrod throws over his shoulder as he turns away.

''Any further questions, Mr. Greene?'' Judge Lansing wants to know.

''None, Your Honor,'' says he.

Judge Lansing nodds and says, ''The witness may be excused. Mr. Barkley, you are dismissed.''

Oh, my poor boy. What'll this do to his standin' in town...?

At the defense table Korby Kyles leans towards Mr. Jarrod and whispers at him with obvious excitedment.

Defeated, Mr. Heath rises and leaves the stand, his face pale and his shoulders slumped. But, while he's still on his way back to the row of chairs his family occupies, Mr. Greene calls out, ''Your Honor! I'd like to call one more witness at this time. - Mr. Henry Bingham!''

Oh, my Lord, that must be the surprise witness, Mr. Jarrod was so worried 'bout. I wonder who he is...?

Mr. Bingham, a stout man in his fifties, takes the stand. Mr. Greene, the prosecutor legerly polishes his glasses, while he asks him, ''Mr. Bingham, you are a train engineer in the Northern division. Is that correct?''

''Yes, sir.''

''Where were you this month, on the night of the fifteenth, at eleven thirty p.m.?''

''I was just headin' number nine out to San Francisco. I was a couple minutes late.''

''Did you know Colonel Ashby?''

Mr. Bingham states he does, havin' seen him lots of times up and down the line durin' the years.

''Now, Mr. Bingham, would you please tell the court in your own words exactly what you saw that night as your train left the station.''

''Yes, sir. I just cleared the last switch and was watchin' ahead and straight into the line of my engine I see these two men fighting in the alley.''

The train lights! It's been the train lights makin' it possible for Mr. Heath to see! Why din't no one think of that?

''How long did the light from your engine shine on the fight?'' Mr. Greene wants to know.

''Hm, I couldn't say for certain, but it was long enough to see them both clear.''

I can see Mr. Jarrod lift his head and – I guess from back here – stare at the witness intently.

''Well, go on Mr Bingham, tell us who did you see?''

''The one that was well dressed I recognized right off as Colonel Ashby,'' Mr. Bingham states firmly. ''The other one I recognized at the same time.''

''What was the other man wearing?''

''Uh, farmhand dress is the best I can tell you.''

''Well, now, Mr. Bingham,'' says Mr. Green, ''I can rightly understand how you might have recognized Colonel Ashby right off - but how can you be so sure of this other man?''

''I saw his face real clear,'' Mr. Bingham answers firmly, ''and I'd know his face from any other in a second.''

''Oh, well, why is that?''

''I'd seen him many times hangin' around the station when I was changin' trains. Never know his name, but I'd never forget his face!''

''Mr. Bingham, why has it taken you so long to come back here and testify?''

''When I read about Heath Barkley catchin' him redhanded - why, I thought it was all cut and dried without my having to come down here and say my piece. Then I read about the trial goin' on and I sent the telegram.''

Disquiet at the defense table. Too bad I can't really see what's goin' on from back here!

''Mr. Bingham, about the man you saw that night fighting with Colonel Ashby in the alley... is he here in the courtroom?'' the prosecutor wants to know.

''He is,'' says Mr. Bingham firmly. Good man.

''Would you point him out, please.''

And Mr. Bingham - God bless him – points at Korby Kyles and says, ''Thats him over there! The man you called Korby Kyles.''

All the Kyleses jump out of their seats. ''Nobody coulda seen me do it!'' Korby cries and then suddenly whirls 'round and runs towards the exit. But there are too many people between him and freedom and he's apprehended at once.

Mr. Jarrod looks on, blank-faced and defeated. Poor man. Can't help but feel for him. But he's brought it on himself.

After Korby's been caught, handcuffed, and back at the defense table, the sheriff standin' right beside him, and everyone's calmed down, the jury don't even need to withdraw for deliberation to come up with a guilty verdict.

Judge Lansing then declares that in light of the circumstances and the specially heinous attempt at wranglin' the truth he has no choice but to sentence the accused to the harshest penalty: to be hanged by the neck.

''NO!'' Jake Kyles howls and throws himself over Korby as if to shield him with his body. But even Mr. Jarrod's half-hearted attempt at pleadin' for mercy cannot sway the judge, and practically everyone in the court room, except the Kyleses, is noddin' in approval.

What a waste of time and effort and so much heartbreak! Had he jus' admitted his guilt and asked for mercy right from the beginnin', he could've lived out his years in prison. But, then, I don't rightly know what I'd prefer. I jus' hope I'll never have to make such a choice. But, if you're alive, you can at least still see the good Lord's sunshine, right? Even if it's through a barred window.

The verdict is to be executed three days from now early in the mornin'.

Then the gavel falls for the last time and the session is over. Everyone rises, chattin' excited, and gets ready to go home. Mr. Jarrod excuses himself by sayin' he has to accompany Korby Kyles back to his cell and hear if he has any last provisions to make. The rest of us drive home to the ranch. Nobody says a word. How are we to face Mr. Jarrod 'gain? After him bein' so wrong?

**********

At home we all part ways, not lookin' at each other. Mr. Heath takes the horses to the barn to settle them for the night, Mr. Nick grumbles somethin' and makes off towards the corrals, and the ladies vanish up the stairs to change. Me, I'm takin' off to my kitchen. I'll have me a sip of the cookin' sherry to calm down my nerves before I start preparin' a cold supper. Phew.

When the family re-assembles for before dinner drinks in the parlor, Mr. Nick finally breaks the silence, sayin', ''Well, I know someone who'll be eatin' crow tonight. And a double helpin', if I have anythin' to say about it!''

''Oh, Nick,'' Miz Victoria says unhappy.

''Serves him right,'' Miss Audra says. ''You were right all along, Heath. And he should have believed you.''

All now depends on how those two, Mr. Jarrod and Mr. Heath, will be handlin' their disagreement. If they don't make up – what'll happen with the family?

''He meant well,'' Mr. Heath says softly. ''Can't hold that against him.''

Everyone looks at him, wonderin'. Miz Victoria with a glimmer of hope that family strife might be avoided. Mr. Nick doubtful that anyone could be that forgivin'. Although _he_ shouldn't wonder. Mr. Heath's been forgivin' him quite a lot in the beginnin'. I say.

Miss Audra smirks. ''Well, if he helps with the new orphanage as he promised, I'm ready to forgive him,'' she says. ''But only if he apologizes to you, Heath.''

Mr. Heath don't answer, jus' takes a sip of his whisky, deep in thought.

Finally the front door opens and in steps Mr. Jarrod, lookin' drawn and exhausted. Everyone looks up, but no one says a word. He hesitates a moment, then walks over to the drinks table and pours himself a good helpin' of scotch.

Raisin' his glass to the family he says, ''Well, here's to big brother who's made one of the biggest mistakes of his life! - I owe you an apology, Heath. I knew that you would never send a man to the gallows, if you had the slightest doubt you could be wrong. I also knew that I could make you doubt yourself. Knowing you as a brother, I used this knowledge to manipulate you as a lawyer. That was wrong, and I am deeply sorry.''

Mr. Heath gets up and raises his own glass towards Mr. Jarrod, sayin', ''To big brother whose good intentions I never doubted. No apology needed.''

Mr. Nick, who's been standin' at the fireplace, crows, ''That's more generous than you deserve, Jarrod. I hope your big head has shrunk a few sizes, counselor!''

''I have no doubt he'll know better next time, Nick,'' says Miz Victoria in a bid to reconcile them.

''I still don't understand why you would believe Korby Kyles' word over Heath's,'' says Miss Audra sternly.

But before Mr. Jarrod can even think of an answer, Mr. Heath says slowly, in a voice tinged with amusement as he quotes Mr. Jarrod's own words back at him, ''Now I submit to you that this is what really happened: From what Kyles told you, you found that his statement about Colonel Ashby bein' involved in the drugs trade was true. And, puttin' this one true fact together with what else he said, you assumed everythin' else he said must be true as well. Now, having assumed that much, your imagination took you one step further. It led you to believe that I must've been wrong about what I saw in that dark alley.'' And he grins at his big brother, one eye brow raised.

Everyone stares at him. Mr. Nick laughs harshly.

Mr. Jarrod raises his glass 'gain, smilin', ''Brother Heath, what a lawyer you would have made!''

''A bad one,'' Mr. Heath chuckles. ''Never in my office!''

Mr. Jarrod steps forward and offers Mr. Heath his hand and he takes it without hesitatin'.

That's my boy, that is. Mr. Tom would be so proud!

After that they all go in for dinner, Mr. Nick still ribbin' Mr. Jarrod, but more like jokin', and otherwise they's fine.

**********

When they's back in the library after dinner, Miz Victoria asks, ''Did judge Lansing reconsider his verdict?''

''No,'' Mr. Jarrod says frownin', ''Korby's to be hanged on Monday morning. I have to be there, of course.''

Mr. Heath sighs. ''I'll come, too,'' he says.

As they all look at him in surprise, Mr. Nick asks, ''Why would you do that?''

''You bring them in, you see them out. You owe them that much, Frank always said,'' Mr. Heath explains, seemin'ly deep in thought.

''Who's Frank?'' Mr. Nick wants to know.

''Man I worked for, Frank Sawyer.''

'' _Marshall_ Frank Sawyer of Jubilee?'' Mr. Jarrod asks in surprise.

Marshall Frank Sawyer! He's famous. He's brung in many infamous outlaws, whole gangs of them! He's had dime novels written about him. Even I... ahem... may have read one or two of them.

''That's him,'' says Mr. Heath. ''Is he in Jubilee now? Din't know that. We were in Spanish Camp when I was his deputy.''

''You were a marshall's deputy....'' Mr. Jarrod repeats slowly. ''Why on earth did you never mention that?''

''It din't come up,'' Mr. Heath says, frownin'. ''Would it've made a difference? We still would've both forgotten about the train lights as the light source that enabled me to see what was goin' on in that alley.''

Mr. Jarrod huffs and shakes his head.

''When was that and how long did you work for him?'' Mr. Nick wants to know.

''A year or so before I came here,'' says Mr. Heath, ''and only for most of a year. There were a lot of hangin's at the time. Just couldn't stomach it any longer.''

''Lynchings?'' Mr. Nick asks in a low voice.

''No,'' Mr. Heath shakes his head. ''Frank wouldn't have stood for that. They were all legally sentenced by a circuit judge. And there's no denyin' they deserved what they got. But still... it's not an easy thing to watch.''

They all ponder that and nothin' more is said of it before we all retire.

**********

When they come back on Monday shortly before noon from Stockton, where they've witnessed the verdict bein' executed, Mr. Jarrod as Korby Kyles' lawyer, Mr. Heath because he apprehended him, and Mr. Nick in support of his brothers, they's all quiet and withdrawn.

''Well, that's behind us now!'' Miz Victoria states in an upbeat voice, as they enter the parlor.

''Was it bad...?'' Miss Audra asks timidly.

''As bad as could be expected,'' Mr. Jarrod states in a grim tone.

''Korby's not someone to go out quietly,'' says Mr. Nick. ''He was screamin' and cursin' till the end.''

Miss Audra's hands fly to her mouth as if holdin' in a scream.

''My Aunt Martha always told me that my noose was already tied and waitin' for me somewhere out there, when I was a kid,'' Mr. Heath says in faraway voice, his eyes blank. ''Always made me shudder.''

''What a cruel thing to say to a little boy!'' Miss Audra exclaims, while Miz Victoria clasps a hand over her heart and stares at Mr. Heath in pity.

''She was an unpleasant woman,'' he admits.

Unpleasant! I say. I hope she gets eaten by wolves!***

''Not goin' to happen!'' Mr. Nick says, slappin' Mr. Heath on the shoulder and Mr. Jarrod puts his arms 'round both his brothers' backs and says, ''I think we could all use something to drink by now!''

**********

Later that day I overhear Mr. Jarrod and Mr. Nick talkin' 'mong themselves and they's wonderin' what happened to Korby Kyles' brothers. Only Jake Kyles accompanied his son on his last walk, givin' the Barkleys the evil eye and cursin' them all to hell and back. Korby's brothers were absent.

Life goes on and the week flies by without anythin' noteworthy happenin'. Soon it's Saturday 'gain. Most of the hands, as usual, spend Saturday night in town. Mr. Nick and Mr. Heath, too, have been out for a beer or two after dinner, but they's back in time as the whole family is bound for church come Sunday.

Sal Li's been visitin' with me in my kitchen, us two havin' a cup of tea and a very small glass, or two, of sherry, which always makes him very jolly. After he's left I go to bed. I'm kneelin' before my bed in my nightgown, sayin' my prayers to the good Lord, when somethin' hard and cold touches the back of my neck.

''Get up, nigga, nice'n'slow, or I blow you away right here,'' someone snarls at me.

I can't move. I'm frozen. All I can think – even after all these years – is that my hunters have finally caught up with me. - But, of course, this is not about me at all.

''I said, get up, you old crow!'' The gun is shoved in my neck with each word.

I raise my hands and try to get up, but can't, lower my hands 'gain to steady myself on the bedside, and finally, my knees protestin', make it to standin'. At which point my attacker grabs me by the arm and whirls me 'round. He's a middle-aged man, short and squat with a wild beard and dressed in raggedy leathers. The only clean thing 'bout him is his gun which is gleamin' evilly in the low light of my bedside lamp.

He tears me with him and marches me towards the parlor. The family's already there, lookin' bedraggled, all in varyin' states of undress. The ladies are in their nightgowns and Mr. Jarrod in his pajamas. Mr. Nick's still mostly dressed, only without his vest and boots and gun belt. They's all sittin' with a man behind them, aimin' a gun at them. Mr. Heath - dear me! - Mr. Heath's wearing nothin' but his pants and is lyin' on his back near the fireplace and Jake Kyles is standin' over him with his rifle aimed at his chest. There are six men with us – one for each of us – the three Kyleses, Jake, Emmett and Alan, and three others, lookin' even more tattered and dirty than them.

''Remember what I told you, boy, back in the barn?'' Jake Kyles says to Mr. Heath. ''If it takes cattle to kill or houses to burn, it'll be done? Now's the time, boy!''

''Oh, Jake, for heaven's sake -'' Miz Victoria starts, but is cut off when one of his sons, can never tell'em apart, slaps her across the face.

Mr. Jarrod cries out, while Mr. Nick roars in fury and jumps out of his chair, but gets a gun barrel to the temple for his efforts and drops to his knees.

Now we all know how serious this is. There's no goin' back for them after they laid hands on Miz Victoria. It's us or them – but there'll be killin' tonight...

The other Kyles son stops fondlin' Miss Audra's hair and walks over to the fireplace to stoke the flames. Then he goes away and leaves through the front door.

''Jake, think about what you're doing!'' Mr. Jarrod implores him. ''Our men will be back soon -''

''Your hands are in town gettin' drunker by the minute,'' Jake Kyles interrupts him. ''And the ones still here are old farts, sleepin' so hard they din't even notice the doors bein' barred. Don't count on them.''

The other Kyles son comes back from his errand and carries somethin' with him. Oh, Lord, oh, no. No, no, no, no, no... It's a brandin' iron. He hands it to his father.

''Told you what I'd do to you, if you testify against my son,'' Jake Kyles growls and waves the iron back and forth in front of Mr. Heath's face.

''Wasn't my testimony that brought him down,'' Mr. Heath says calmly, ''or did you miss the part where your excellent lawyer demolished me in court?''

Mr Jarrod winces.

''You brought him in!'' Jake Kyles yells at Mr. Heath. ''And that arrogant son of a bitch lost his case!'' he brays, turnin' towards Mr. Jarrod. ''As far as I'm concerned it's the Barkley's fault my son's dead! But it's your turn now!''

He shoves the brandin' iron into the flames, never takin' his rifle away from Mr. Heath.

''I'll brand you before I burn down this house! Too bad no one'll see it on your face because you'll all be nothin' but ashes tomorrow.''

''Aw, pa, not all of'em,'' complains one of his sons. ''You said we could have her!'' grabbin' at Miss Audra with his dirty paws. Mr. Jarrod and Mr. Nick shout in protest, but it does no good.

''Yeah, yeah,'' Jake relents. ''We take the girl. But the rest of'em die tonight.''

Miss Audra throws herself into her mother's arms, weepin'.

Mr. Heath turns to the fire, takes a deep breath, and blows into the flames.

Jake laughs. ''What? Can't wait for the iron to be hot enough?''

The others hoot and chuckle.

''Just sendin' a message, dead man,'' Mr. Heath says.

A log in the fire place breaks and tumbles, sendin' glowin' embers up the chimney.

''And it arrived,'' Mr. Heath states ominously.

''What's that?'' Jake Kyles asks puzzled.

Mr. Heath gets up on his elbows, his eyes never leavin' Jake's. ''You know, I was brought up in the mountains,'' he tells him conversationally. ''Some folks there still practiced witchcraft, it was said. There was this old Modoc woman. A weaver, they said. You could go there, and if she liked what you offered in trade, she'd weave you a spell.''

Everyone's listenin' now. Outside, on the porch, there's a **'THUMP!'** like somethin' heavy fallin' down, like a big branch breakin' off a tree - only there's no trees close enough to the porch to do that.

''I don't like where this's goin', Jake,'' the man who interrupted my prayers says.

''Keep your flap shut, Willard!'' Kyles growls.

''You said we'd take their money and joolry and whatnot. No one said anythin' about... witches.'' He whispers the last word.

''There's no such thing,'' Kyles declares, not soundin' too convinced himself.

''You tell yourself that, dead man,'' Mr. Heath says.

He's spookin' them. He's spookin' _me_ , truth be told.

 **'Thump, thump, thump'** , somethin' goes outside, like heavy footfalls on the porch. The men holdin' us captive exchange worried looks. Is someone comin' to rescue us? Oh, dear Lord, let it be our men! And the sheriff! The army pr'aps...? Anyone. Please.

''Who do you call 'dead man'?'' Kyles fumes at Mr. Heath. ''You and your family be dead come mornin', while me and cousin Willard here, and our boys, be far away with your little sister!''

''May be. May be not,'' says Mr. Heath. ''May be we'll be dead. But you're dead for sure. Y'all are dead men walkin'.''

''Pa-aw...'' one of the Kyles boys whines.

''How do you figure that?'' Jake asks. ''Seems to me we're holdin' the advantage here.''

 **'Scratch! Screeetch!'** Somethin' scratches along the outside walls and windows. Like a twig would do in the wind. But 'gain, there's no trees close enough to the house to do that. Also, there's no wind.

Mr. Heath sits up now and rests his forearms on his knees comfortably.

''Well, when I signed up for the army - I was fourteen - my mama went to that old Modoc woman. She thought I needed protection. More than a mother's prayers and a hand-me-down bible could give me. Somethin' special, you know. God bless her, she loved me very much, I was her only child.''

Somethin' outside, in the yard, _**howls**_. Wolves or more likely coyotes. But the wolves don't come down from the mountains this time of year. And we've never had a coyote in the yard. Our dogs say nothin'. Useless bunch. Fat and sleepy in the barn for all I know.

''Pa? I don't like it, Pa!'' One of cousin Willard's boys yammers.

Jake turns to Mr. Heath 'gain. ''Go on,'' he says. He's breathin' heavily now, a sweaty sheen on his face.

''Not much more to tell,'' says Mr. Heath. ''That old Modoc made somethin' up for my mama. Somethin' for protection and somethin' for retribution. Got me safe through the war and through Carterson prison. There were less than a tenth of those who had walked in that walked out again. I was one of them.''

''I don't wanna be here anymore,'' the other Willard offspring whispers.

''But what did she trade, boy? What did your momma trade?'' Willard asks breathlessly.

''Half her remainin' years,'' the boy answers harshly. ''She traded half her remainin' lifetime for me. She died at forty-two.''

In that moment a **THUNDERCLAP** shakes the house. The front door rattles in its hinges. I wonder where that came from. The sky's been perfectly clear all evenin'.

''AAAHHH!'', ''I'm outta here!'', ''Let's go!''

**'THUMP!' 'Screeetch!' _'Howl!'_**

''Too late....'' Mr. Heath says in a sing-songy voice as the invaders take flight and run towards the front door.

Where they suddenly pile up and falter.

''I'm not goin' outta there,'' Willard says.

''It's waitin' for us,'' one of his sons agrees.

''We haven't touched him,'' Jake counters. ''It can't do nothin'.''

''Not stayin' here...'' And with that they open the door and run outside. A **'whooosh'** of air comes in through the open door and fans the flames in the fire place up high. Another log crushes and the embers fly up, up, up.

In an instant Mr. Heath's on his feet. ''I'm goin' after them! Are you comin'?'' he throws at his brothers on his way out, only pausin' long enough to ask his mother and sister, ''You be all right?''

''JESUS CHRIST! What was that?'' Mr. Nick yells at the top of his lungs.

''That, my brother, was psychological warfare,'' Mr. Jarrod answers, already followin' Mr. Heath upstairs.

Mr. Nick makes sure the ladies are all right before he, too, runs to get his gun belt.

Not two minutes later they tumble out the door, race to the stables and are gone.

**********

I'm still down on my knees, next to the settee with Miz Victoria and Miss Audra, when Miz Victoria says, ''Silas – no, Audra, you go and wake the men! Send someone to get the sheriff!''

Miss Audra jus' nods, gets up and grabs a blanket to cover her nightgown and runs.

''Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Oh, my god,'' someone whispers. And only when Miz Victoria puts a hand on my shoulder, I understand that it's me, mumblin' like that.

''Silas! Are you all right? Can you get up? Did they hurt you?'' she asks.

''I be fine, Miz Victoria, I be fine,'' I says, my voice shakin'. ''You?''

''I'm fine, too,'' she says, her poor face swollen and red where one of the Kyleses has hit her. She'll need some ice for that. And together, one supportin' the other, we wander off towards the kitchen to get it.

**********

Miss Audra returns, comin' back through the kitchen door, and we hear a rider takin' off into the night. That'll be one of the lads to get the sheriff. We all get dressed to wait for him.

''Mother, what was that thing banging around outside?'' Miss Audra asks when we's all back in the parlor, waitin' for the sheriff.

''I'm sure I have no idea where those noises came from,'' Miz Victoria says, ''but it was _not_ anything unnatural. Probably just falling branches or something like that.''

''But that howling? It was right outside!''

''Audra, you know there are wolves and coyotes out there,'' Miz Victoria says firmly.

''In the yard...?''

''Perhaps it was one of the dogs?'' I suggest.

She looks at me dubiously, but before anyone can come up with a better explanation, it knocks on the front door and I let Sheriff Madden in.

''Victoria,'' he says, ''I understand there was an incident of some sort...?''

''Oh, Fred, how good of you to come! Jake Kyles and his family assaulted us! I was sleeping and he came into my bedroom and held me at gun point! They wanted revenge for Korby and threatened to burn down the house with all of us in it!''

''Jesus! Where are they now?''

''They took off! The boys are after them.''

While we're all tellin' our version of the events, the front door bangs open and in steps Mr. Nick, lookin' as if he's seen a ghost.

''Nick, you can't seriously think that someone or somethin' came down from those mountains and did them in...'' Mr. Heath says, followin' him.

''There must be a rational explanation for all of that – even if we can't think of one at the moment,'' Mr. Jarrod agrees, comin' in last and closin' the door.

''Fred! Have you heard?'' he goes on, shakin' hands with the sheriff.

''Yeah, your mother just explained everything to me. I take it you lost them?''

''Oh, we got them all right,'' Mr. Nick says darkly.

''It was the weirdest thing,'' Mr. Jarrod states slowly. ''They had a head start of five or ten minutes riding east towards the mountains, but we were hot on their heels. Then, suddenly, there was a thunderclap right out of the clear sky a ways before us. The next thing we knew, their riderless horses came running towards us full tilt. We managed to catch them all, and going on, found the whole family. You know the crossroads near the old Miller place, where there's this gnarly old tree?''

Fred Madden nods.

''Well, that's where we found them. Lying in the road. All dead.''

''Their faces were all contorted and their eyes bulgin','' Mr. Nick adds. ''Look for yourself. They're in the backyard, across their horses.''

''How did they die?'' Madden asks suspiciously. ''If you didn't shoot them?''

''Look at them!'' Mr. Nick insists. ''You won't find a single bullet hole.''

''I suppose their horses spooked at that thunderclap and threw them and they died from the fall,'' Mr. Jarrod says, soundin' not quite convinced himself.

''All six of them?'' Mr. Nick asks.

Mr. Jarrod shrugs. ''Perhaps you'll find something at the inquest,'' he says to Sheriff Madden. ''Let Doc Merar and Mr. Becket have a look. We couldn't find a single wound.''

''It was that Modoc curse that killed them,'' Mr. Nick insists.

Fred Madden looks at him with raised eyebrows.

''Nick, it was a story. I made it all up! Yes, I was raised in the mountains, and the moment I saw that Willard and his sons, I knew them for mountain people, and if I know anything, I know those folks are superstitious. I played on that, as I told you several times already,'' Mr. Heath explains patiently, but with an undertone of annoyance at havin' to repeat himself once more.

''So, there was no old Modoc woman after all?'' Mr. Nick asks suspiciously.

''Well, that part was true. But my mother was a good Christian woman who had nothin' to do with witchcraft. And I'm right sorry I had to use her name like that. But I din't know what else to do and the situation was desperate.''

There's still much to and fro this night, everyone tryin' to come up with rational explanations for the events and none succeedin'. Mornin' dawns already when the sheriff finally takes off, accompanied by two of our hands leadin' the Kyles' horses with their grisly load towards Stockton.

It's decided that we all will go to bed till lunch to catch up on some sleep. The family vanishes upstairs to their bedrooms, but I go outside on the porch and have a look 'round for fallen branches or some such.

It's lyin' right next to the front door. A weaver's shuttle with some strands of coarse black yarn - hair? - attached to it. I get the fire tongs and pick it up, keepin' it right 'way from me, and go 'round to the kitchen, where I open the stove door and throw it onto the glowin' embers. And with an angry **'HISS!'** it catches fire, blazes up, and is gone, leavin' nothin' behind but ashes.

**Author's Note:**

> ***This refers, of course, to Doreliz excellent story 'A Woman's Opportunities' (sadly only to be found on the BVWD, I think)
> 
> And this is how it's done, BVWD-writers! When you take inspiration from somewhere/someone, you give credit. Because another writer's fic is not just a quarry for you to mine.


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